When Things Get Dicey
by ElvenKnife
Summary: What was Camp Rock missing? Said Time magazine. Answer: More Shane Gray. Also needed: Smitchie, which kicks up in Chapter 6. Plot twist. -Chap 4 is not a real chapter.- Naitlyn in Chap 10 as well as even more twists.
1. Losing the Band

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**Chapter 1: Losing the Band**

It's hard to live up to a good boy's rep. And when you occasionally slip up, things can get a little dicey. It doesn't take much to turn the public against you. This is the point I'm at right now. This good boy has gone bad; at least in the public's eyes.

But I'm different on the inside. So I say, hey, what the hell? Let them talk trash. So I busted up a movie set, so what? I've still got talent and no one can take that away from me.

Or so I thought.

I was sitting in the limo, squinting at the too-bright sun, texting Miley about the reason behind busting the set.

Nate got me this red frog picture thingy. One day I could've sworn it blinked at me. I was so freaked out by it; I threw it at the camera lights. Oops.

Sounds like an excuse. She texted back.

I turned my Sidekick off angrily. What was with everyone these days? The public had me labeled as dumb shit, Miley wouldn't believe a thing I said (well, it wasn't the whole truth, but partially), and my brothers kept repeating to me, "We don't know what to do with you." over and over.

Yeah? Then go do a cat, bastards. Nobody understands what this is doing to me.

As if on cue, Nate began to lecture me on ethics and respect for movie people.

"You have to understand how they feel. How would you like it if someone busted up your guitar?" I gave him a look of despair.

"My guitar? I'd cry." Jason joined in. I rolled my eyes. What did _they_ know about ethics and movie people? Nate was the one who stole my Popsicle when I was two. No, wait, that was Jason. Nate wasn't born when I was two.

"And if you want to make them feel better, you're going to have to apologize." Nate continued.

"No thank you. If they want to feel better, they should go eat a Popsicle. I mean one that Jason didn't eat." I replied. Jason blinked. Ah, he didn't get it.

"Shane, snap out it, man. You need help." Nate said.

"What do you mean, help?" I asked, eyes narrowing.

"We're sending you to Camp Rock." Nate so helpfully explained.

"Dude, I'm too old for that sort of stuff." I said. Camp Rock? What the hell, I was eighteen.

"You'll be teaching, not learning. Though it would help if you did learn something." Nate said the last part under his breath.

"So, you're sending me there for a job?" I asked.

"Can I have a job?" Jason asked.

"You haven't been acting like yourself, Shane. Uncle offered and we said yes." Nate replied.

"That's not your decision to make. I won't do it." I said firmly. They wanted to send me away! Ridiculous.

"It's our decision as a band. Connect Three isn't doing well with all the bad press. You going to camp is like a fresh start." Nate answered.

"Make me a birdhouse when you're there." Jason joined in. Damn idiot.

"Look, we're here. Have fun!" Nate said half-cheerfully. He was smiling at my horror. I scowled at him.

"I won't!" I yelled at his face. They drove off. I was alone.

**End of Chapter 1: Losing the Band**

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	2. Losing the Music

_"So, you're sending me there for a job?" I asked._

_"Can I have a job?" Jason asked._

_"You haven't been acting like yourself, Shane. Uncle offered and we said yes." Nate replied. _

_"That's not your decision to make. I won't do it." I said firmly. They wanted to send me away! Ridiculous. _

_"It's our decision as a band. Connect Three isn't doing well with all the bad press. You going to camp is like a fresh start." Nate answered. _

_"Make me a birdhouse when you're there." Jason joined in. Damn idiot._

_"Look, we're here. Have fun!" Nate said half-cheerfully. He was smiling at my horror. I scowled at him. _

_"I won't!" I yelled at his face. They drove off. I was alone._

* * *

**Chapter 2: Losing the Music**

Man, brothers are twisted. You think they're trying to help, but they're actually in it for themselves. Or you think they're in it for themselves but actually they're trying to help.

But I don't need their help. Because, technically, their help is useless. Like now. I'm stuck in Camp Rock as an instructor. Will I enjoy it? I don't think so. I plopped down my bed, trying to get comfortable. But it was stiff, itchy, and utterly un-relaxing.

Uncle Brown. I don't think he wanted me here. That makes two of us. I glanced around the room. It was brown, and smelled like grass. Not one of my favorite scents. I decided to call Nate. It had been an hour already and maybe he changed his mind. Hopefully.

I turned my Sidekick on. Two texts from Miley, one saying, "What? It's true." and another saying, "Am I being too harsh? Sorry." I deleted them. Of course she was judging me too harshly. I am not a bad person.

I dialed Nate's number and stopped. No signal. I sighed. Typical.

I decided to go for a walk in the woods. It was camp and camp had woods for walking. I slipped my phone into my pocket and left the room. Dramatic exit. Too bad no one else had been in the room.

The woods smelled more like grass and crap. I started humming random stuff. A girl showed up in front of me.

"Is that Headstrong by Trapt?" She asked me. I snorted. So the girl knew her rock.

"What's it to you?" I asked her.

"Nothing, I'm just a fan of them." She answered offended.

"Don't think I care." I answered nonchalantly. I walked off. This was getting a little annoying. I took out my Sidekick and dialed Nate's number again. There were two bars of signal. I began walking while I talked.

"Dude, can I leave now? I've stayed here for two hours now, I've looked at a tree, and I smell like grass! It's disgusting! I don't want to be here. Please come here and get me away from-" I paused. There were girly shrieks coming from behind me. I started running.

"I gotta go, I'll call you back!" I yelled at my phone. I spotted a bush next to me. I slipped on a tree branch and fell into it. Luckily the girls chasing me went the other way. It was my mistake to have come out of the woods. Which reminded me that I had been walking away from the girl. If I had to teach her, she was so getting detention.

A burst of piano music and vocal interrupted my thoughts. Some girl was singing. Probably trying to impress me. But I stopped to think that the walk in the woods and this music now reminded me of when I was at Camp Rock myself as a camper. Especially the music. It was a different kind, more like a mix of country rock, the kind I used to play. Now we could only play pop rock, the shitty kind of rock. I listened to the words in the chorus. They sounded like:

This is real

This is me, which was funny because those were similar to the sort of lyrics I used to write before we got a record label. I felt kind of sad now because I missed those days, when I was free to play whatever I wanted to. The music stopped. The song was over. I got up from behind the bushes. My legs were sore from being in the same position the whole time during the song. I walked over to the piano where I heard the music come from. I didn't see anyone there.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" I called out anyway, in case they heard. I sighed and I couldn't help thinking, I was alone again.

**End Chapter 2: Losing the Music**

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	3. Finding the Song

_The music stopped. The song was over. I got up from behind the bushes. My legs were sore from being in the same position the whole time during the song. I walked over to the piano where I heard the music come from. I didn't see anyone there._

_"Hello? Is anyone there?" I called out anyway, in case they heard. I sighed and I couldn't help thinking, I was alone again._

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**Chapter 3: Finding the Song**

What do they expect me to learn? "Oh, I'm sorry for everything I did to the set, please accept my apology, I even baked you brownies!" Is that what they want to do to me? Break me down and make me beg? Horrible people.

I started humming. I got out of my wet bed, the one that Uncle Brown poured plant juice over. I take off my shirt and find a new one to wear. Only they're all wrinkled. "Don't make me cry." I whispered seething. I picked a black one out of the pile and put it on. I finished changing and left again. Angry dramatic exit. Again, no one but the clothes to see. Where were the paparazzi when you need them?

I continued humming but I stopped walking. This was the song I heard from the piano in the pavilion. It was a good song, catchy. I turned around to go back into the brown grass room. I got out my guitar and sat on the wet bed. What were the chords again? I kept humming and strumming the chords out. A major, F5, G, then D major, and repeat. Like an anthem, this is what kept me from going insane in Camp Rock.

I started to sing along, but I didn't even remember a bit of what she had sung. The chorus had been really happy so I went with that. But I kept remembering the way she had sung, full of dedication. If I found that girl, I'd have to tell her what a good artist she was. I got out a piece of paper and wrote down the guitar chords and made up some lyrics to the chorus.

_You're the voice I hear inside my head_

_The reason that I'm singing_

_I need to find you_

I paused. 'I need to find you' didn't fit with the next chord. I closed my eyes, still strumming the chord.

_I gotta find you_

_Oh, you're the missing piece I need_

_The song inside of me_

I went back to the original line.

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

There. I finished scribbling and sang the whole thing over again. Just then a voice spoke behind, completely freaking me out. I jumped a little on my bed.

"Yes?" I asked sarcastically.

"That's a good song you got there." Uncle Brown said nicely.

"Well, I was thinking of a new sound for our band." I explained. Not like the shitty pop rock we have to play for our label.

"Oh, so the Camp Rock atmosphere is working for you." Uncle Brown said happily.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." He left. Well, it was working, sort of. That's where I got the song from. I got up and put down my guitar, slightly cheered up by the song I figured out.

"You're the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I'm singing..." I sang out loud as I walked to the cafeteria to find breakfast.

**End Chapter 3: Finding the Song**

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	4. Note and Poll

"_That's a good song you got there." Uncle Brown said nicely. _

"_Well, I was thinking of a new sound for our band." I explained. Not like the shitty pop rock we have to play for our label. _

"_Oh, so the Camp Rock atmosphere is working for you." Uncle Brown said happily. _

"_Uh, yeah, I guess." He left. Well, it was working, sort of. That's where I got the song from. I got up and put down my guitar, slightly cheered up by the song I figured out. _

"_You're the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I'm singing..." I sang out loud as I walked to the cafeteria to find breakfast._

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**First ever author's note:**

Hope you've been enjoying the story. Next chapter will be the part where Shane's food allergies kick in.

Please vote for which allergy he should have:

**A)** Fruits (apples, pears)

**B)** Seafood (Sushi, shrimp)

**C) **Dairy (Milk, yogurt)

**D)** Chocolate

There's no need to specify which item of food. Just review with A, B, C, or D. You can give me your reasons why. (optional)

Poll ended Friday, July 11th. Sorry for anyone who didn't get to vote.

Did anyone read the blurb Time wrote for Camp Rock in the Arts section? I don't remember what issue, I think it was the one right before Camp Rock came out, June 6th. It did say that Joe Jonas should've had more lines.

Please review anyway!

**End note**

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	5. Finding the Breakfast

"_That's a good song you got there." Uncle Brown said nicely. _

"_Well, I was thinking of a new sound for our band." I explained. Not like the shitty pop rock we have to play for our label. _

"_Oh, so the Camp Rock atmosphere is working for you." Uncle Brown said happily. _

"_Uh, yeah, I guess." He left. Well, it was working, sort of. That's where I got the song from. I got up and put down my guitar, slightly cheered up by the song I figured out. _

"_You're the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I'm singing..." I sang out loud as I walked to the cafeteria to find breakfast._

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**Chapter 4: Finding the Breakfast**

My stomach grumbled again.

"Cook, where's the food?" I yelled at the kitchen.

"The cafeteria isn't opened yet!" A voice yelled. Excuse me? I wasn't supposed to eat with the rest of the campers, I was an instructor. More importantly, I was Shane Gray.

"I woke up this early so I could get my breakfast before anyone else!" I yelled back. No reply. I pulled a chair up and sat. Great. The whole damn room smelled of grass. And it was painted brown. A person came out. I couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl because their face was blocked by a white chef's hat. Their other hand was holding a tray of food. I guessed by the hair that she was a girl. She plopped the tray of food onto the table and ran away. Shy? I raised my eyebrows.

I opened my plastic fork wrapper. Ah, bread rolls. I poured some syrup over them. They were brown and crispy with honey. Must have some cheese filling, I figured. I stabbed the roll with my fork. I had a horrible revelation as I bit into the bread. It was chocolate! I spat out the chunk of bread. My tongue was itchy and so was the rest of my mouth. I felt like barfing. I quickly took sips of iced tea to wash away the sick feeling. I still felt queasy so I ate the strawberry yogurt cup and drank the rest of my iced tea.

I leaned back in my chair and sighed. Weren't they supposed to avoid using chocolate in my meal, not spike my bread roll with it? Were they trying to poison me? Was this all a ploy to get rid of the third member of Connect Three? Were they going to change their name to Connect Two? My thoughts were taking a turn for the worse. I got up and stalked into the kitchen. At least the cooks in there could see my dramatic entrance.

"Excuse me? I know you're in here." I said to the seemingly empty room. But I knew the chances were that the girl who ran in here hadn't left yet. I heard some pots banging in the back of the kitchen. It sure looked empty compared to what I'd imagined it to be.

"I can hear you." I said to whoever was banging the pans. The girl popped up from behind the counter. Her face was full of flour. Was she trying to hide her face again?

"Hi! How may I help you?" Her voice was cheerful, but her expression was nervous. From behind the flour, anyway.

"You really get into your work, huh?" I said sarcastically. Why was she hiding anything? She didn't answer.

"Look, my agent was supposed to send you a list of my food allergies. Don't you know you're not supposed to give me any chocolate?" I asked her demandingly. She frowned.

"Why, so you won't get hyper?" She retorted. I cracked a grin.

"Very funny. My bread roll was filled with chocolate. Chocolate gives me rashes." I explained.

"Huh. Sorry 'bout that. Expect your meals to be chocolate-free from now on." The girl smiled. I turned to leave. Dramatically.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She called back.

I raised my eyes. "Uh, thank you?" I asked her, caught off-guard. Shit. She ruined my dramatic exit. I stormed off to the brown grass room a.k.a. my room. Yeah, might as well call it that from now on.

Wait, a second. Wasn't I an instructor here? So, shouldn't I be teaching? Great, more things to be done. I got off my bed, which had dried by now. Although it had shrunk a bit. I went off to find Uncle Brown.

"Uncle Brown, Uncle Brown, Mr. Brownie!" I yelled at his office door, just like I used to. The door opened.

"Couldn't you have just knocked? I'm supposed to be cool." Uncle Brown said. He and his fake coolness. I rolled my eyes.

"Mr. Brownie, what's the class I'm suppose to be teaching?" I asked him. He sighed.

"Don't tell me you forgot! It's from ten to twelve then one to three. Hip Hop Acts 1 and 2." He told me. I smiled brightly at him.

"You memorized the schedule for me?" I said, putting my hand to my heart. Uncle Brown sighed again.

"Don't waste time! It's already nine-forty! Go to your class! You're supposed to be earlier then they are! You know, set an example." Uncle Brown said exasperatedly. Me, the bad boy of the press? Set an example?

"Uh, yeah, where is the class exactly?" I asked quickly. Uncle Brown scowled and pointed.

"Thanks, Mr. Brownie!" I yelled as I ran in that direction. Time for Hip Hop Act 1.

**End Chapter 4: Finding the Breakfast**

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The poll was a tie between chocolate and seafood, so I decided to pick whoever voted first.

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	6. Finding the Class and Playing it Safe

"_Don't waste time! It's already nine-forty! Go to your class! You're supposed to be earlier then they are! You know, set an example." Uncle Brown said exasperatedly. Me, the bad boy of the press? Set an example?_

"_Uh, yeah, where is the class exactly?" I asked quickly. Uncle Brown scowled and pointed._

"_Thanks, Mr. Brownie!" I yelled as I ran in that direction. Time for Hip Hop Act 1._

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**Chapter 5: Finding the Class and Playing it Safe**

Let me tell you one thing. Camp Rock is not the type of camp filled with little kids. Huh. I wish it was, because then I wouldn't feel like a general, ordering people my age around. It's better if the people are younger or older than you. Because when they're the same age as you, you start imagining, "What if I was in their shoes?" which makes ordering them around way too awkward.

So, as I waited for the rest of the people to arrive, I decided not to order them around. Much. I noticed a pile of hats on one side. We could use them like props.

"Alright guys!" I yelled at them once they'd all arrived. "I think you all know who I am." I paused; of course they knew who I was. That's why they had all signed up for this class. I think like the whole camp was there. "Grab your hats and line up behind me." I said, because I couldn't think of anything else to say. How do you teach a class? I watched them get a hat and get behind me. But, of course, there was always the problem of getting the coolest hat to impress me. I noticed the girl I had bumped into in the woods was behind this huge mob of people.

"Hey guys, you know what would impress me? If you'd all hurry it up!" I yelled at them. Slow as hell.

"So, this is like call and respond. Only with dancing." I added the last part in case anyone had the stupid idea that we'd be singing.

"Watch me." I said even though everyone was already looking at me. I turned the music on. I really hadn't had anything planned for this act, but I figured I'd improvise. The question would be: how would I remember what I had done when we went over it? Maybe someone would remember it for me.

The music started. Catchy, but not nearly as good as the song I had heard in the pavilion. I jumped with my legs apart. I did air guitar for like three seconds and then a spin, and waited as they copied me. Not bad. I went on to some shuffling and some air grasping. It seemed to flow with the music, so why not?

It turned out some people did remember what moves I had done. We spent the whole two hours going over Hip Hop Act One and had fun with it, replaying the song over and over. Just when we reached the finale part, a blonde girl started dissing this guy.

"Just what do you think you're doing, freak?" She asked him. He seemed dazed. What a bitch. She would have been the bad girl of the press, if she'd even be able to get into the press. I considered dissing her or slapping her, or maybe even telling her to fuck off. Then I remembered why I was here in the first place, because I had ruined the movie set. No shit. If I had done any of those things, I might have to stay here next year. That would be hell. I had to play it safe.

"Hey, dude, Sean, was it?" I asked him. The bitch smiled, thinking that I was going to tell him off. I smiled at him, just to piss her off. Sean nodded his head.

"Don't let her get to you. I know you didn't fall. She pushed you. And, yeah, it's because she's jealous." I said to him. I wasn't dissing her, or slapping her, or telling her off, but it was still satisfying in a way. Did I mention how much I hate bitches like that? This is another reason why I broke the movie set.

I briefly wondered if she'd want to get me back, maybe I should watch out for chocolate in my food. It wasn't likely though. Bitches love celebrities. Even if celebrities hate bitches.

**End Chapter 5: Finding the Class and Playing it Safe**

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	7. Finding the Girl

"_Hey, dude, Sean, was it?" I asked him. The bitch smiled, thinking that I was going to tell him off. I smiled at him, just to piss her off. Sean nodded his head._

"_Don't let her get to you. I know you didn't fall. She pushed you. And, yeah, it's because she's jealous." I said to him. I wasn't dissing her, or slapping her, or telling her off, but it was still satisfying in a way. Did I mention how much I hate bitches like that? This is another reason why I broke the movie set. _

_I briefly wondered if she'd want to get me back, maybe I should watch out for chocolate in my food. It wasn't likely though. Bitches love celebrities. Even if celebrities hate bitches. _

* * *

Chapter 6: Finding the Girl

So now, I've got this habit. Of walking in the woods before breakfast. Singing my very special song, "I've Gotta Find You". I sing it then and hum it everywhere else, because it's private. Except to the girl who wrote the tune, of course. By the way, I still can't remember the lyrics she was singing.

I walked around a cluster of trees for a while, singing. "You're the voice I hear, inside my head, the reason that I'm singing. I need to find you, I gotta find you." I was also working on another song that Connect Three could sing together. If they still wanted me in there band, I mean. If they didn't want to change their name to Connect Two.

"Music's in my soul!" I yelled into the trees. It echoed back. "Music's in my soul." I did a call and response with the trees, just like I used to do with Nate and Jason. But thinking about them reminded me about the stupid tour we would have gone on if I hadn't trashed the set. The tour. Which was more fun, a tour or Camp Rock? I asked myself. A few days ago and I would have said the tour. But now...

"Hand clapping, hip shaking, heartbreaking, there's no faking. What you feel when you're riding home." I sang loudly to the trees. The trees did their best to keep up with the lyrics I was bursting out to them. "Hand clapping, hip shaking..." The echo faded before they got to heartbreaking. I yawned. Maybe it was time for my chocolate-free breakfast. I checked my watch. Six-thirty. Really early. I wasn't much of an early riser, so that surprised me. I hopped off the tree stump I had been standing on.

Only to be face to face with a girl. The same one who I had bumped into in the woods, and who was in hip hop class. Ah, fate. She was pretty, in a natural way. Makeup free. Did I mention I was allergic to blush? So, I knew right away, that this girl didn't have anything on her face. Except like the prettiest brown eyes. I cut off my thoughts by speaking.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" I asked, playing it smooth. She seemed startled, like she thought she wouldn't get caught spying on me. A bitch or no bitch? I had, if you can tell, an aversion to bitches.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Mitchie." She answered. Mitch rhymed with bitch. I thought randomly, as I wondered what I should say.

"And I'm Shane." I said matter-of-fact.

"I know." MItchie said. Typical response.

"Do you always come to the woods?" Mitchie asked me.

"So, this is the first time you've spied on me?" I said teasingly.

"I wouldn't be talking; you're the one who was acting like a jerk last time." She answered in the same tone that I used. So she remembered.

"Hey, it's not my fault; you got your rock wrong." I said laughing. 'Course she had been _right_, but I was stuck with wanting to say something and having nothing to say.

"It was Headstrong! What did you think it was?" Mitchie answered, half-indignant, half-laughing. I liked her laugh. It was filled with cheerfulness which I needed right now. With all the classes and everything.

"Was it? _I'd_ say it was In The End by Linkin Park." I said. I was happy to have found a friend in Camp Rock. Sure, everyone else admired me, but it wasn't the same. And this girl knew the music I was into.

"Just because they're the same genre, doesn't mean you can confuse them whenever you want. Headstrong was way more upbeat but In The End had really meaningful lyrics." Mitchie said more indignant now. Exactly the way I felt about it.

"Alright, fine you win. I surrender." I said laughing. Mitchie was laughing too.

"You want to go grab breakfast?" Mitchie asked me. I noticed that she was shorter than me by half a foot. Huggable.

"Yeah, sure." I answered and started walking alongside her to the cafeteria. I stopped.

"What's wrong?" Mitchie asked me.

"What time is it?" I asked myself more than her. I checked my watch. Seven-thirty. I almost choked. _Now_ I had something to talk about.

"Do you know what this means?" I asked her desperately. Mitchie looked confused.

"Breakfast is starting?" She half-asked, half-answered.

"Do you know why you never see me around breakfast with everyone else?" I asked her.

"Why?" She asked me.

"Because I hate it when people stare at me when I'm eating." I answered. "I figured that out when I became famous."

"Oh."

**End Chapter 6: Finding the Girl**

* * *

Hah. Three updates in a day! Beat that! It also shows I don't do much besides eating and typing away at the computer. Sure I read, do my summer hw, go out on walks, but after that, not much else.

'Course that is lucky for you. Writing Shane Grey is as easy as hay. If cake was spelled "hay".

But...I'm rambling. Anyway, this chapter marks the start of Smitchie in this fanfic and hopefully the start of some awesome reviews! And yes...I did have to end it there.

Was the flirting even remotely romantic? I'm not so sure. Anyway, Saturdays and Sundays I'm more busy but I'll surely find time to update for you guys. This story will end up longer than Tess' list of mean things to do to Mitchie Torres.

Thanks to whoever added me to the Smitchie community! Especially since it was before this "could be assumed as romance" chapter came out. Hey, they haven't even kissed.


	8. Croissants, Fruit Tarts, and Bitches

_"What time is it?" I asked myself more than her. I checked my watch. Seven-thirty. I almost choked._ Now_ I had something to talk about. _

_"Do you know what this means?" I asked her desperately. Mitchie looked confused._

_"Breakfast is starting?" She half-asked, half-answered. _

_"Do you know why you never see me around breakfast with everyone else?" I asked her._

_"Why?" She asked me._

_"Because I hate it when people stare at me when I'm eating." I answered. "I figured that out when I became famous." _

_"Oh."_

* * *

**Chapter 8: Croissants, Fruit Tarts, and Bitches**

"Unless..." I thought. Mitchie looked up.

"Do you have an idea?" She asked. I smiled.

"Would you like to join me in the kitchen for breakfast?" I asked her, bowing. Mitchie frowned.

"Um, you don't have to if you don't want to. I guess eating in the kitchen seems too-" I began to say.

"No, no, I'd loved to." Mitchie said. "Sure." I grinned.

"Shane, there's something I have to tell you." Mitchie said. I smiled at her.

"Go ahead."

"I-my mom, she's not. She's not the president of Hot Tunes TV China." Mitchie stuttered. I stopped walking and turned around.

"So, why are you telling me this now?" I asked confused.

"Because...my mom works in the kitchen. And so do I." Mitchie admitted. "I was wrong to lie before and I know that now. I just wanted to be popular. And I was wrong because popularity is definitely not what it's cracked up to be." Mitchie said quietly, tears streaming down her face.

"Couldn't you have told me this before? Before I started trusting you?" I asked her. A liar. Bitches lied. She was no better than the bitch in Hip Hop Act One. Was I surrounded by lying bitches?

"I- I'm sorry." Mitchie said, still crying. She wiped her tears and started to walk away.

"Mitchie, stop." I said, grabbing her hand. I should at least explain why this bothered me.

"I'm glad you apologized and told the truth. It's just ever since I became famous, all the girls started talking to me. At first it was nice, I had lots of friends. But then I realized that the only reason why they wanted to be my friends was for the fame and the money. Mitchie, can you promise that I can trust you?" I asked her. She seemed to be the most real girl I had ever met and I needed to know if she'd make the same mistakes.

"I promise you can trust me. If you want, we could eat breakfast." Mitchie said, smiling a little.

"Crap. I forgot about breakfast. I'm starving." I said, checking my watch. Eight-thirty. An hour and thirty minutes to eat.

"Well, now that we've decided to eat in the kitchen, there's no need to hurry. Class starts at ten." Mitchie grinned.

"You read my mind." I replied. Maybe I could trust her.

We walked briskly to the kitchen.

"Hi Mom!" Mitchie said brightly to the woman in the kitchen. She smiled at her.

"Hello, dear. And who is this?" Mitchie's mom said politely.

"It's Shane, Shane Gray." I replied.

"And I'm Connie, Mitchie's mother." Connie replied. "What brings you here to the kitchen?"

"Uh, Shane doesn't want to eat breakfast with all the people staring at him because he's a celebrity." Mitchie explained hastily.

"A celebrity? I didn't know that." Connie said smilingly. I wasn't sure if she was kidding or not.

"Uh, yeah, mom, Connect Three, remember?" Mitchie said.

"Oh, yes. Well, you can grab some breakfast right here." said Connie, pointing to a row of croissants and fruit tarts and mini orange juice cartons. Delicious.

"Is there any chocolate in them?" I asked her.

"Of course not. I heard about your allergy. It's a pity, chocolate is very popular." Connie said. "Oh, well, you enjoy your breakfast."

I picked up a croissant and took a bite. It was crispy and flaky, the perfect croissant. I drank some orange juice. Mitchie picked up a fruit tart and ate the strawberry on top. I watched her eat a blueberry next. I picked up another croissant to eat when a thought occurred to me.

"So, are you the girl who had flour in her face?" I asked her. It was kind of embarrassing now, having admitted to her that chocolate gave me rashes.

"Yeah. You were kind of a jerk back then." Mitchie said, finishing off her tart. I drank the rest of my orange juice.

"Really? So I've changed?" I asked her curiously. I picked up another croissant. "These things are awesome."

"You're nicer. I believe you're not a jerk anymore." Mitchie said, picking up a second tart.

"Dude, I've eaten four croissants in the time that you ate one. It's like nine right now. But, as for the jerk thing, it's probably because I'm away from my brothers." I answered, my mouth full of baked goodness.

"Hey, so what if I eat slower? But, do you get along with your brothers?" Mitchie asked me. She ate the rest of her tart while I answered.

"Sometimes. We fight sometimes. Like this whole Camp Rock thing, I didn't want to come here to teach at first. I wanted to go on tour. But all things considered, it wouldn't have been better. Hey, are you an only child?" I asked her. She looked at me, surprised.

"How'd you know?" Mitchie asked. I grinned.

"Only children are often mislead upon the subject of siblings." I said sarcastically. "It's not fun and siblings _always_ get catty at each other. Even if they like each other."

"Really? I bet Jason isn't so bad." Mitchie said. "He plays guitar really well."

"Don't judge a man by his ability to read a how to play guitar book. He stole my Popsicle when I was two." I said darkly. Mitchie giggled.

"Unforgivable." Mitchie joked, laughing harder. I nodded my head wisely. "Hey, what time is it?" I looked. 9:50

"Oh, shit." I cursed, running towards the door. "We're gonna be late! Bye, Mitchie's mom!" Mitchie followed me out.

"Bye, Mom!" She yelled. "Bye, honey. And bye, Shane!" Her mom yelled out the door.

We arrived there at exactly ten, together at the door, hearing a lot of noise come from the inside.

"Ladies first." I said politely. Lay on the charm.

"You didn't say that at the kitchen." Mitchie said jokingly.

"Hmm. Must've forgotten."

"A real gentleman you are." Mitchie said good-natured. I walked in after her and stopped. All of the noise died down.

"You're a couple?" Tess the pest (as I like to call her) screeched. "Oooo." said the people and stopped as I gave them a death glare. Oh, bitch. I cursed in my head.

**End Chapter 8: Croissants, Fruit Tarts, and Bitches**

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Please review. (hands out Camp Rock croissants)


	9. Anger Problems and Guitar Solos

_We arrived there at exactly ten, together at the door, hearing a lot of noise come from the inside._

"_Ladies first." I said politely. Lay on the charm. _

"_You didn't say that at the kitchen." Mitchie said jokingly. _

"_Hmm. Must've forgotten."_

"_A real gentleman you are." Mitchie said good-natured. I walked in after her and stopped. All of the noise died down._

"_You're a couple?" Tess the pest (as I like to call her) screeched. "Oooo." said the people and stopped as I gave them a death glare. Oh, bitch. I cursed in my head._

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**Chapter 9: Anger Problems and Guitar Solos**

Tess' shocked expression quickly grew into an ugly smirk.

"So, Mitchie." Tess said in a disgusting tone of voice. "Have you told your boyfriend what your mom's like?"

"She's nice." I said coldly. I wished Uncle Brown would keep bitches out of the camp. They were ruining the nature with their crap!

"That's not what I meant." Tess frowned but then smiled again. "I mean, what does she do for a living?" I got where she was going with this. I glanced at Mitchie who was looking ashamed. Don't let the bitch bother you! I wanted to yell. I decided to go with the cooler method of pissing Tess off. I was still being watched by Uncle Brown.

"She told me." I replied. I watched Mitchie speak up.

"She's not the President."

"Then, what is she? A vice president? A treasurer?" Tess asked, her smile growing. How could anyone feel pleasure at something this? Sick, sick bitch. I felt angry. I wanted to slap her. Stay cool, I told myself. _Violence does not solve problems._ I remembered Nate say.

"She's a cook." Mitchie said, humiliated. I wanted to tear Tess into little pieces. Die, you fiend!

"Look, what does it matter? The fact that Tess is really annoying bothers you, doesn't it? But she's still able to have friends. Don't tell me you're going to stop beings friends with Mitchie. Mitchie's nice." I said, not really sure where I was going with this. Anything to get rid of the anger, I told myself. Calm down. Tess is just a pest.

"What does it matter? She lied, Shane. Even to you." Tess hissed. "She lied to everyone."

"You know what I'd like?" I asked her, my eyes narrowed. Mitchie looked at me like I was a hero. I fought the urge to kiss her. "I'd like it if we'd all started class and disregard any bad comments. Anyone who says another bad word about anyone gets to mop the floors after class. I'm the freaking teacher and it would be nice if you all stayed friends." I said angrily. The people listened, because I'm Shane Gray and I was angry at them, which, I guess, disturbed them greatly. I didn't care. Tess stopped talking and unfortunately didn't get to mop the floors. Damn it.

After class, I went to see Uncle Brown. I went directly to his cabin without looking at Tess, only glancing at Mitchie.

"Mr. Brownie, I'm back!" I yelled. "Mr. Brownie? Where are you?" I yelled, wondering if anyone could hear me. It would be funny if they could.

His office was empty. Posters of the Rolling Stones were all over the walls. Signed, of course. And then there were the piles of sheet music. I picked up Uncle Brown's guitar and started strumming. Perfect pitch. So he was here recently, I reasoned, playing detective.

"Turn on that radio, as loud it can go. Wanna dance until my feet can't feel the ground." I sang my part, the first verse, while picking chords with a guitar pick. I was bored, so after I sang my whole part, I went on to sing Nate's and Jason's and the chorus.

"Music's in my soul. I can hear it every day and every night. It's the one thing on my mind." I finished. It would sound better with the drums in the background. If I ever got to play it on stage. I heard clapping coming from behind me. I turned around.

"How long were you here?" I asked Uncle Brown suspiciously.

"I feel like I should ask you that. I came back here because I heard you calling me Mr. Brownie again. I told you not to do that. It ruins the co-" Uncle Brown said. I sensed a "cool" lecture coming on so I interrupted.

"Anyway, Uncle B., I was thinking of telling the band to play this song. What do you think?" I asked. Better say it all at once.

"Go ahead; perform it at our next Jam session." Uncle Brown said in a care-free way.

"Uh, are you sure?" I thought of Mitchie. It would be embarrassing to play her the song one-on-one. But at a concert, it would be easier.

"Sure, I'm sure." Uncle Brown joked. I didn't bother fake laughing.

"Alright then. Next week." I said and left. I didn't look back because I'd probably see a disappointed expression from Uncle Brown. He hated when his jokes failed.

**End Chapter 9: Anger Problems and Guitar Solos**

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Reviews are appreciated. Next chapter will have more Smitchie. ;D


	10. I'll Play My Music If You'll Play Yours

"_Music's in my soul. I can hear it every day and every night. It's the one thing on my mind." I finished. It would sound better with the drums in the background. If I ever got to play it on stage. I heard clapping coming from behind me. I turned around. _

"_How long were you here?" I asked Uncle Brown suspiciously._

"_I feel like I should ask you that. I came back here because I heard you calling me Mr. Brownie again. I told you not to do that. It ruins the co-" Uncle Brown said. I sensed a "cool" lecture coming on so I interrupted._

"_Anyway, Uncle B., I was thinking of telling the band to play this song. What do you think?" I asked. Better say it all at once._

"_Go ahead; perform it at our next Jam session." Uncle Brown said in a care-free way. _

"_Uh, are you sure?" I thought of Mitchie. It would be embarrassing to play her the song one-on-one. But at a concert, it would be easier. _

"_Sure, I'm sure." Uncle Brown joked. I didn't bother fake laughing. _

"_Alright then. Next week." I said and left. I didn't look back because I'd probably see a disappointed expression from Uncle Brown. He hated when his jokes failed._

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**Chapter 10: I'll Play My Music If You'll Play Yours**

Why did I sign up for a Jam session again? Oh right. Because I wanted to impress Mitchie. Which will never happen due to unforeseen circumstances such as Nate's incapability to figure out what to wear. Apparently he's got a little crush of his own...on Mitchie's best friend. Which is great, really. Except for the delaying of our concert.

"Which should I wear? Purple shirt or red?" Nate asked frantically, his curly locks hiding his eyes, in an undershirt and boxers, holding up two ironed shirts.

"Uh, neither. Color's not really your thing. Go with the brown." I said, sitting down. I was all ready to go and so was Jason. Nate was really holding us up.

"Dude! Brown is a boring color! I _need_ color!" Nate yelled frantically. I raised my eyebrows.

"There's a first. How do you know?"

"Caitlyn...she...you know. She complimented my shirt!"

"And that's a bad thing?" Despite the time-consuming, I was having fun with this. Nate usually dominated all the arguments so this was an opportunity.

"Well...you know. She said it all...sarcastic. Like, 'Nice shirt.'"

"Oh. And what were you wearing that day?"

"A beige shirt! So I need color! Purple or red?"

"You look good in brown so wear brown. Don't force yourself to wear something you don't like." I said wisely. Ah, this was fun.

"Who says I don't like it?! I love it! Red it is!" Nate yelled. I shrugged.

"Whichever way you roll." Jason said calmly. He was busy staring at some girls out the window who were practicing dance moves. Whatever.

Finally we were _all_ ready. My heart skipped a beat. Wasn't that bad for your health? We picked up our guitars and I walked up to the mike.

"This song's for all you fans out there. Oh...and Mitchie." I said with a pause. She blushed. Front row seat with Caitlyn. Nate fumbled to pick up his mike.

"And Caitlyn!" He half-shouted. I grinned. Jason started the music.

"Music's..." Nate sang. I joined in my lead.

"Turn on that radio. As loud as it can go. Wanna dance until my feet can't feel the ground." I stared at Mitchie. She was grinning from ear to ear. Dazzling.

"Say good-bye to all my fears. One good song they disappear. And nothing in the world can bring me down." I nodded to the beat. Here was Nate's part.

"Hand clapping, hip shaking, heartbreaking, there's no faking. What you feel when you ride it home, yeah!" Nate sang, his eyes on Caitlyn. We could probably double date sometime...wait, where was I going with this? Ah, chorus time. I winked at Mitchie and took of the mike in one clean motion.

"Music's in my soul. I can hear it everyday and every night. It's the one thing on my mind!" I sang out, my eyes closed, just sort of feeling the music. This was way better than our recent music; I needed to go back to this. I started jumping, back flipping, not really thinking, and just doing. On an impulse move I reached out for Mitchie and pulled her on stage. She looked surprised and nervous. I handed her an extra mike. While my band mates sang the rest of the chorus, I talked to her.

"So, what do you say? A little sing-off?" I teased her.

"I don't know..."

"C'mon. Sing!" She did. We all joined in the chorus, even Caitlyn, who Nate pulled up on stage also. Copycat.

"Music's in my soul. I can hear it everyday and every night. It's the one thing on my mind!" We sang together.

"Music's got control." I sand with Nate and Jason.

"And I'm never letting go, no, no." Mitchie sang. Incredible. I didn't know she could sing _that_ good.

We all finished the rest.

"I just wanna play my music. All night long." I ended it with a rockstar scream: "Yeah!" like we rehearsed.

The audience clapped but all Mitchie and I could do was stare at each other in pure, freaking amazement.

I think I'm in love.

**End Chapter 10: I'll Play My Music If You'll Play Yours**

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AN: Alright. I was very busy in August but I'm back. And a new rule: I want more reviews. Else I'm holding Chapter 11 hostage. The ransom? 5 reviews.

I've decided to fit in Naitlyn because it just works. Disney channel is silly thinking that there would actually be a camp where people did not fall in love with each other. Tsk tsk.

I think there were a gazillion signs of Smitchie but just in case things weren't clear enough, I made them clearer in this chapter. Toodles!


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